#marcanda

[silk-road-to-samarkand]

When speaking of Uzbekistan, a few major cities come to mind as we navigate the region’s complex and beautifully rich history. Among these cities are Samarkand and Bukhara. Together, these two cities of “divine Bukhara and happy Samarkand” make up what British poet-diplomat James Elroy Flecker called “the Golden Journey.”

Known by the Greeks centuries ago as Marcanda, Samarkand stands as one of the oldest inhabited cities in Central Asia. With its centralized position, Samarkand enjoyed status as a valuable trade hub and intersection of goods, culture, philosophy, intellect, and innovation from places such as China, India, Europe, and Siberia. Through Samarkand and Bukhara from the East traveled porcelain and silk; spices and Gems from the South; ivory and perfumes from Europe; fur and amber from Siberia.

This dual status as such thriving cities meant the two sometimes campaigned for supreme leadership in the region. Tamerlane’s capital was Samarkand in the fourteenth century (for it was close to his birth city of Kesh, and when not campaigning, all his efforts went into forging Samarkand into a city worthy of his might); before him, Persian Samanids named Bukhara the capital. Just when Bukhara enjoyed dominance over Samarkand in the eighteenth century, Russia’s Bolshevik Revolution again made Samarkand the dominant city.

As crossroads of the world, Samarkand and Bukhara were exposed to much of the world’s treasures, both physical and intellectual, enjoying all the best that North, South, East and West wanted to share. It was in Samarkand that the first paper mill outside of China opened, and tenth-century eastern Islam enjoyed the most influential library in Bukhara.

The influences upon these cities is as complex as the rest of Uzbekistan’s history, and just as colorful and all-encompassing. For the capital Tamerlane (”Timur the lame”) built out of Samarkand, the architects he captured incorporated a unique Tartar concept, though the final product bore Arab, Indian, and Persian influences alike.

And of course the city needed to be in palettes of the fearsome conqueror’s favorite color: blue.

Sources:

Image 1 Image 2

Lawton, John, and Francesco Venturi. Samarkand and Bukhara. London: Tauris Parke, 1991. Print.

[heysouffles]

Marcanda: The dragon, the corn, and the coffee (Fanfic)

It was a cool summer morning, the grass was glistening from the morning mildew and the sun shone brightly over the earth as it peaked up from the horizon. Marcus was on his usual morning walk through the neighborhood, it was always nice to feel the crisp morning air on his face. Just as Marcus was turning the corner he heard footsteps behind him, it certainly didn’t sound like running but it was far to fast to be walking either. Marcus was almost home so he didn’t bother turning around to see who it was. He could see his house from the street he started to walk a little faster because the random, vigorous footsteps were getting closer! Before he knew it the footsteps were right behind him and he could feel a hot breath run down his neck, he shivered. “HELLO!” a voice said almost gasping for a breath. Marcus turned around to see an alluring girl with brown hair that seemed to have waves softer then the sea and wearing a dress so red that it was almost blinding. Something seemed a bit off about her though… She was doing what seemed to be a one person tango!! “Is everything ok..?” Marcus asked the lady. “OF COURSE!” The lady said “I JUST HAVE SO MUCH ENERGY I CANT STOP DOING THE TANGO!!” Marcus was slightly frightened by this and ran as fast as he could home! Leaving the lady far behind him. 

A week had passed and Marcus did not forget about the mysterious lady, he was blinded by her beauty, even though she couldn’t stop dancing, he secretly could not wait to see her again.

On Marcus’s morning walk, he decided to stop for a cup of coffee because he was losing sleep over this lady. “A grande chai latte, please” he told the barista “$4.20 sir”, that’s when he heard it, the tapping feet he heard many days before. “Sir?” The barista asked again, Marcus fished out a 5 dollar bill and told her to keep the change. He needed to see the lady again, his head was so cloudy thinking about her and the tapping feet flooded his brain. He turned around quickly and WA-BAM! he not only ran into the dancing lady but also managed to spill his coffee on his white t-shirt. “I am so sorry!” Marcus said, while lifting up his hands and shaking the access coffee off. “OH HELLO AGAIN! IT’S REALLY OK!” the lady blurted out “WOW! WE SEE EACH OTHER A LOT! MY NAME IS MIRANDA!” “… Hello, Miranda. My name is Marcus. Do you need some help cleaning up? I got coffee everywhere!” “NO! THIS STAIN WILL REMIND ME OF OUR SECOND MEETING” the girl batted her eyelashes. By now, Marcus was almost positive he was in love with Miranda. Even if it was their second meeting, she was perfect.

Before they both left the coffee shop Marcus made sure to get Miranda’s number and made plans for her to come over for dinner the next night.

It was the following night and Marcus wasn’t sure what to make his dream girl for dinner, he wasn’t even sure what girls like to eat to be honest. He looked in his freezer and found 2 steaks, one was extremely freezer burnt but he would be sure to eat that one. He cooked the steaks, set the table, put on a clean dress shirt and his nicest pair of jeans. Soon after finishing up he heard the rapid tap of footsteps and then a knock on the door. “HELLO MARCUS YOU LOOK MORE SPIFFY THAN USUAL.” Miranda announced as he opened the door, she tangoed right on into the living room. “I hope you like steak!” Marcus exclaimed. “…UUH” Miranda groaned “DIDNT I TELL YOU? I ONLY EAT CORN.” Marcus went pale. He didn’t have any corn In the house and the store was at least a half hour drive. The chances of him getting laid tonight were super slim now. “IT’S OK! I WASNT THAT HUNGRY ANYWAYS” Miranda told him. “CAN I USE YOUR BATHROOM? IM NOT TANGOING ANYMORE THIS IS MY POTTY DANCE.” “um yeah of course. It’s right down the hall.” Miranda put her bag down and headed to the bathroom. Marcus, trying to practice his detective skills, decided to snoop in her bag. “What the…” Marcus pulled out a photo album and a notebook both labeled ‘Marcanda’. He opened the photo album first, inside was a crumbled up leaf and under it read “the leaf that landed on my foot after the first meeting” and the next page was a napkin that was stained brown it read “the napkin he used to wipe up spilled coffee ❤️”. He closed the book immediately, as he had seen enough next he opened the notebook on the first page it read “marcanda friendfiction” he flipped to a random page and started to read “…..it was only when I took my true form Marcus fully loved me”. By this point Marcus was so confused and wanted some answers! He heard the toilet flush so he put the items back and waited on the couch. “Miranda dear” he called for her “what does it mean that you..uh.” He hesitated “…take your true form?”. Miranda locked eyes with him. Her pupils full blown, clearly filled with lust. “LET ME STAY WITH YOU TONIGHT AND I WILL SHOW YOU” she winked at him.

It almost almost midnight and Marcus was growing impatient to see what she meant. Miranda could tell this “YOU COULD DANCE WITH ME! I HAVENT TANGOED WITH A MAN IN FOREVER!” Right when Marcus was about to answer the clock struck midnight. Miranda was glowing! A flash of white light momentarily blinded Marcus. He rubbed his eyes and looked for Miranda, except it wasn’t Miranda at all it was a GIANT DRAGON! Miranda had never been more beautiful in her entire life, Marcus now had a raging hard-on that was straining through his pants. “Miranda you are so beautiful! You should of told me you were a dragon!”. Miranda finally stopped tangoing, because dragons can’t tango. “Shrek is love, Shrek is life” it was the first time he had ever heard her whisper. Miranda locked eyes with Marcus again and they started to kiss. It was slow and soft at first but then it turned it a heated makeout with the slick heated slide of tongues. “MARCUS…” Miranda tried to say seductively. But right before she leaned in for another kiss she sneezed. A scolding hot flame burst out of her nose burning Marcus to bits. Miranda was horrified, she couldn’t go back to jail for killing a man. She needed to hide the body, but how?!? She only knew of one way. She reached into her purse and pulled out a can of creamed corn. She ripped off his clothes and slathered it on this naked body, opened his mouth and filled him with corn. then in one bite ate him. This was how she wanted to remember Marcus, inside of her and filled with corn.

The end.

This is dedicated to my friend Marcus and the dancing lady Emoji. May Marcanda live on.